Starbucks Guy
by Always With Amy
Summary: "But something about the way that he's looking at Kurt seems weirdly trustable, and something about the way that he's talking to Kurt in an even, understanding tone of voice is really comforting." Post-BIOTA; Jeremiah/Kurt.
1. Chapter 1

Kurt's not addicted to coffee; he just likes it a lot. It's his go-to drink, whether he needs a pick-me-up after an all night cram session (because the academics at Dalton are _unreal_ compared to the lethargy of McKinley's), or whether he and Blaine just need some means of spending time together and hanging out, as teenagers do.

Unfortunately, Blaine's somehow become his unofficial "coffee buddy" as of late, and when he goes up to the register at the first Starbucks he can find (about twenty five minutes outside of Westerville, at some outlet mall or other), the dapper male is on his mind. Despite the fact that this particular coffee excursion's whole point was to get Blaine _off _his mind. And the moment he accidentally begins to order a medium drip, instead of his own nonfat mocha, he wants nothing more than to slam his head into the counter in front of him.

Naturally, he doesn't, because he's fairly certain that that would cause a lot of people to worry about his sanity, and he definitely doesn't need strangers to think he's a _batshit crazy flamer_ instead of just a regular _flamer_. But it doesn't mean that he really doesn't want to, and that desire must be playing out through his features and his tone as he revises his order.

The barista makes an interested noise that finally prompts Kurt to look up at them, and when he does, he wishes he'd capitalized on the head-slamming. There are _about _three people that he really didn't want to have to deal with today – those people are, in a very specific order, Blaine, Rachel, and Finn. (The latter for absolutely no reason other than the fact that he's such a delightful moron that he'd most likely bring up Blaine's and Rachel's brief romance in an off-handed and _totally inappropriate _way.)

But somewhere lower on that list – after Wes, with his goddamn _gavel _that he _really shouldn't smack around so much_, and Puck, with his damnable abilities to pick the locks on liquor cabinets – is the guy staring at him with a half-amused, half-concerned look of recognition on his face.

"Hey, you're that guy," the messy red-haired male says with a slightly awkward smile as he punches Kurt's order in. Kurt resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only barely, and ends up settling for a weak smile that probably looks more like a grimace. (As it should, because it actually _is _more like a grimace than anything else.)

"Yes, though I usually answer to _Kurt_," he responds a bit more snippily than he intended to. Jeremy or whatever his name is seems to get the picture that _Kurt's really not interested in small talk right now_, and seems to deflate a little as he mumbles an uncertain, "Four fifty-three," only to have a five dollar bill nearly shoved at him.

Kurt thinks that he'll feel bad for the way he's treating someone he has no reason to hate like he does later, when he's got his damn mocha and he's managed to direct his mind to non-Blaine-related topics. For now, though, he glares daggers at Jeremy's back as the boy – _man_; he's a _legal adult _– sets about making Kurt's order.

Except when Jeremy – Kurt's pretty sure that's his name, anyway, although the more he looks at him, the more he thinks that he looks like a Sebastian – turns around and gives Kurt a knowledgeable look, Kurt feels bad a little too soon for his unnecessary cruelty, and averts his gaze out of shame. "Hey, I go on break in about ten minutes. If you're not busy, why don't you stick around? We'll talk."

The idea is certifiably deranged. Kurt's knowledge about this _guy _is limited to four things – that he's over eighteen; that he was the assistant manager at the Gap; that he's gay, but in the closet; that he's a friend of _Blaine's_ (although he thinks that there might be a fifth, too; he doesn't seem like a fan of Robin Thicke, not that Kurt can blame him) – and this guy's knowledge about _Kurt _is even less. But something about the way that he's looking at Kurt seems weirdly _trustable_, and something about the way that he's talking to Kurt in an even, _understanding _tone of voice is really _comforting_, and before Kurt knows what he's doing, he's nodding.

"Sure," he says a little too hastily for his tastes. He briefly fears that he looks desperate, before he abruptly remembers that _he shouldn't care_. Except it seems like _he really does_ when Jeremy / Sebastian / Gap Guy gives him a smile that makes Kurt see exactly what he assumes Blaine saw in him. He has a really pretty smile.

The ginger male doesn't say anything else as he gives Kurt his beverage, and shoots him a brief wink. "See you in ten minutes."

Kurt doesn't bother hiding the fact that there's a broad smile overtaking his features as he nods, and takes a seat at a small table by the window. And as he sits down to sip at his drink, he doesn't even begin to notice that _Blaine _is nowhere to be found in his thoughts, which somehow go from thinking about Gap turned Starbucks Guy, to thinking about Mercedes (because he could never understand her coffee order; he hates frozen coffee drinks), to thinking about Santana (because she and Mercedes have sung two duets together for Glee Club, whereas Kurt never got to do _one _with his baby girl), to thinking about Brittany (because even though Santana likes to pretend otherwise, he knows that she's still _really in love with Brittany_, and he wishes she would just _accept it _and _do something _already), to thinking about Mike (because he and Britt dance _incredibly _together, and he also has a _really nice ass_).

_**xoxox**_

Just as Kurt's mind wanders back to Sam (and more specifically, Sam's _hair_) for about the third time, someone drops into the seat across from him, and he abruptly remembers why he's sitting in Starbucks by himself in the first place.

Before he can remember that _he's not supposed to like this guy_, he smiles at the older male and offers a pleasant, though incredibly boring, greeting of, "Hey." Jeremy returns the greeting, and smiles back in that pretty way of his. Kurt pretends to be fascinated with his drink to avoid looking the boy in the eye, because he can feel a blush threatening to darken on his cheeks, and he really doesn't need that today, after _everything_.

"So, how can I be of service to you?" Kurt asks finally, setting his cup to the side and clapping his hands together on the tabletop. "If it's about Blaine, I'm afraid that I can't help you," he warns with insincere apology. The bitter, under-his-breath muttering of, "I can't even help myself when it comes to him, apparently," is out before he can stop it, and he instantly regrets agreeing to wait for this strange guy he's now starting a conversation with. Because _this guy _represents exactly when Kurt _should _have realized that he needed to give up on Blaine; when he heard that Blaine was in love with some guy that was _assistant manager at the Gap_. _This guy _represents exactly what Kurt _should _have done, to avoid being in the situation that he is now; that he should have accepted that _he and Blaine wouldn't work out _and broadened his horizons.

Except somehow, when Jeremy – maybe his name _is _Sebastian; Jeremy doesn't seem right, although Kurt gets the feeling that it _does _start with a J - just looks at the tabletop and nods with a sort of thoughtfulness, Kurt regrets it less. It must be something about his attitude – he's so calm, and easy-going (his dress indicated as much from the first time they "met"), and it's actually rather calming. It's a nice change from Mercedes' bitchy, protective one, anyway. (Not that he doesn't love his girl to death for being so angry for his sake, because _he does_, and it makes his feelings of worthlessness go away in a snap; he just needs someone _serene_ at the moment, though.)

"Actually, I just wanted to talk," Sebastian admits simply, holding his empty hands in a show of innocence. Kurt can't help the expression of surprise that takes up his face as he gapes at the male's earnest look, and he reasons that it must be really _pathetic _to see, because Sebastian chuckles a little bit. "You looked upset, like you wanted to bang your head into a wall or something." Kurt hopes that he doesn't look too guilty, and tries to nonchalantly glance out the window. Sebastian laughs again, and Kurt knows that that must have made the accusation appear accurate. "I know we don't really know each other – Jeremiah, by the way – but…y'know, you're a friend of a friend – sorta – so I figured that I might as well give it a shot."

_Jeremiah_. That's it. Kurt's embarrassed that he couldn't remember that on his own, but defends himself with the reasoning that it sounds like the name of an Amish man with a large black beard, and this particular Jeremiah has no beard, and doesn't seem Amish in the slightest.

With a forlorn sigh, Kurt gives Jeremiah a thin smile before replying unsurely, "That's…unnecessarily noble of you, but I appreciate it just the same. Although, I can't say that I deserve it – I've been a horrible friend to our mutual link, hence my caffeine-fueled depression."

Despite the admittance, Jeremiah doesn't seem any less keen on listening to what Kurt has to say, and the countertenor gives him another smile – a little stronger, and more genuine this time, albeit sadder – before elaborating. "I have…strong feelings for Blaine, and he told me he just wants to be friends. Which I'm totally okay with, really, because he's one of my best."

Jeremiah just nods silently, and cocks his head lightly in a wordless urging for Kurt to continue. Kurt fights to ignore the way that Jeremiah's hair looks very cute as it flops against his face, and proceeds.

"But last week we went to a friend's party, and he got drunk and ended up making out with her." He punctuates the confession with a loud exhalation that looks like it startles Jeremiah.

No, it's the content that startles him. "Her?" Jeremiah repeats in completely-warranted surprise that Kurt can empathize with entirely. He confirms as much with another repetition of the pronoun, and the ruddy-haired boy gives a low whistle for emphasis on his following declaration of, "Ouch."

"She asked him out – while intoxicated, I'd just like to add – and he said yes, and…we had an argument. I said more than a few things I'm not proud of and would really rather not repeat about bisexuality, and he said some things that I would really love to forget. I know that I probably deserved all of it, because he was there for me when I needed someone to talk to, and I should have been there for him when he finally had a crisis, but…"

Kurt pauses to take a swig of his drink, and Jeremiah waits patiently for him to pick up. Briefly, Kurt considers abruptly changing the subject to something, _anything_, less painful than this one, but the unspoken _But…?_ is lingering in the air, and he knows that it's one of _those _times where it's just going to stay there like an awkward elephant until he finishes. Preferring to take care of it now, rather than later when it'll be a dozen times worse, Kurt lets his gaze catch onto Jeremiah's as he concludes his tale.

"But it still hurts. I knew that he wasn't perfect – I've seen his hair without gel; those curls of his are a hot mess – but…I didn't think he could be that _cruel_. And he doesn't even _know _how strong my feelings are – he has _no idea _that I've been totally in love with him since we met, even though I wear my heart on my sleeve. I just don't know what to think anymore – is he really that _clueless _to _everything_? Or is he just pretending not to notice because it's easier?"

For a few moments, Jeremiah doesn't say anything, and Kurt wonders if he's ever going to. Just as he's about to speak up – again – to ask about that, however, Jeremiah beats him to it, and his question is rendered irrelevant. (He's glad; he hates to feel like he does all the talking in a – friendship? acquaintanceship? stranger-ship?)

"Look, I don't really know Blaine that well – truth be told, you probably know him a hell of a lot better than I do. I didn't even know that he sings." (Kurt doesn't bother trying to act like he's not severely bothered by this revelation. For as _angry _and _disillusioned_ as he is with Blaine at the moment, he can still admit that the boy has a beautiful set of pipes that never cease to take his breath away.) "But I do know that he has this _idea _of the way things are in his head, and it's pretty different from the way that things are in _reality_. He likes for things to be storybook, you know?"

Kurt knows all right, and he smiles wryly in response. "I know all right. His anthem of romance is "Not Like the Movies," by Katy Perry."

The way that Jeremiah rolls his eyes and spits, "Katy Perry – I hate her," makes Kurt laugh hysterically, and when he finally calms down to see his companion glancing around nervously at the patrons whose attention Kurt's managed to attract, he can't help but start laughing again.'

"I'm sorry," he gasps as he straightens up, and attempts to blindly fix his hair which he's sure has broken out of its perfect hairspray-hold by this point. "Sorry, that wasn't funny at all," he mumbles, suddenly mortified.

The mortification dies down when Jeremiah grins, and shakes his wavy-haired head. "Don't sweat it. Look, all I can say about Blaine is that if you really love him – and I'm not trying to say that you don't, it's just that you're a teenager, and teenage "love" usually lasts about fifteen seconds – then just wait for him to wise up. Believe me, when he does finally see you the way you want him to, it'll be totally worth it. Until then, just – I don't know, do what they did in that movie. With that guy that was in _Howl's Moving Castle_? I forget what it was called…"

Kurt stares for a moment, before laughing – like a sane person – softly, and shaking his head gently. "I know the movie." The countertenor thinks that he _could _tell Jeremiah that – _hey! I told Blaine the exact same thing when he said we should just be friends! _but he decides not to. There are more important things that he could be wasting Jeremiah's precious break time on, since the older boy insisted on giving said precious break time to Kurt.

"How old are you, anyway?"

And now, Jeremiah's the one laughing loudly and attracting attention. Kurt just watches him curiously, noticing the way that he looks _really, really nice when he's happy_, and waits for him to finish.

"I'm nineteen. Twenty in two months."

That doesn't sound _too_ horrible or pedophiliac, and Kurt vaguely wonders if Jeremiah had other reasons for rejecting Blaine's musical advances, but quickly dismisses those thoughts in favor of inquiring, "Can I come see you again sometime? Next time I could try and tackle one of your problems, though I don't have your mature, adult's wisdom."

Yes, Kurt thinks that he _really understands _what Blaine saw in Jeremiah, as Starbucks Guy smiles cheerfully at Kurt and holds up a cell phone withdrawn from his hoodie's pocket. (It's that horrific brown hoodie again, Kurt can't help but notice and cringe at.) "Or you could text me, and we could get coffee or something sometime? Not here, if you don't mind."

Kurt doesn't mind at all, and when Jeremiah's break ends and he goes back to work, Kurt makes a point of double checking to make sure he has his phone with him. He has no idea how these things work – if he's supposed to text Jeremiah? If he has to go through a waiting period so that he doesn't look needy? If he's just supposed to _text_, or if he's allowed to _call_? (He always has been a fan of verbal communications.) If that feeling in his stomach is just _happiness _and _lightheartedness _after everything he's gone through this past month or so, or if he's got the beginning of a _crush_ brewing in him?

He really has absolutely _no idea_. But somehow, he thinks that everything will end up figuring itself out, if he just stays patient, and goes with the flow. No crowbars necessary. (He should probably tell Mercedes that.)

_**xoxox**_

**AN: **Yup. Shipname for Kurt/Jeremiah – I'm voting for Jerekurt, because it sounds like Jerry-curl, and I'm just that lame? Other (better) ideas?

**AN (2): **Jeremiah had better show up listed as a character on here soon. They have that Sean guy from Laryngitis listed, for christ's sake, so logic dictates that Jeremiah should be included, too. –nod-

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks, and eleven coffee not-dates later, Kurt finds himself at the frank and rather unimposing white door that leads to Blaine's dorm room. The door shouldn't seem quite so formidable as it does – it never has before, at least – but somehow, Kurt can't bring himself to open it, even as Blaine's words (and Jeremiah's repetition of them; Kurt realized only too late that he shouldn't have let Jeremiah see the many texts Kurt had saved in his inbox from Blaine) ring out in his head.

It's only when his phone chimes out with a smooth and sultry song lyric (indicating a text, that Kurt doesn't bother opening to know the contents of) that Kurt finally gathers the _courage _to knock. Without allowing for a moment of rational thought, Kurt slams his fist with unnecessary force onto the wood in front of him, and is quickly met with Blaine's face replacing the stark white oak.

The visage is a less than pleased one, and Kurt feels for a moment like he shouldn't have come in the first place. However, as he slips his phone back into his pocket he feels a surge of determination, and doesn't say a word to his – friend? former friend? – as he steps past the shorter male and into the room.

Once inside, he perches on the corner of Blaine's bed, and crosses his legs over one another in a show of defiance in response to Blaine's startled and all-too-irritated spluttering of, "What the hell?"

The motion seems to do the trick, as Blaine simply shakes his head, and frowns before shutting the door firmly and settling back down at his desk. Kurt waits, patiently, for the other boy to finish, and is rewarded with Blaine actually acknowledging his presence, after shutting him laptop and swiveling his chair around.

The silence that follows is anything but companionable, and Kurt almost thinks that he could be willing to pray for an escape from the awkwardness at this point. (Almost. No matter how desperate he is, Kurt still refuses to believe that any god, spaghetti monster, or evil dark side of the moon-residing dwarf could be quite so cruel as to put Kurt in his situation.)

Rather than having to look at Blaine – _Blaine_, who's so _imperfect_, but whose flaws are _condonable_; _Blaine_, who's so _fake_, but whose _real self _is so _charming _on its own; _Blaine_, who Kurt had been sure that he was _in love with_, but who Kurt actually _just misses being friends with _– Kurt elects to look around Blaine's room. Just as he gets to scanning the posters on the walls, however, and thinking (for not the first time) that he's jealous of Blaine's single dorm (Kurt's roommate had made it expressly clear from the first day that no posters for any musicals whatsoever were going to be tolerated), the wordlessness is interrupted.

He's distantly thinks that he's never wanted to be invisible so much as he does now, while Robin Thicke's voice is crooning an all-too-familiar line that makes things _so much more uncomfortable than they were three minutes ago_.

"_Baby girl, you the shh – that makes you my equivalent._"

After hastily jamming his hand into his pocket and silencing his phone with a less than delicate mashing of the screen with his fingertips (he'll think about the possible damage he could have done to it later, when he can't feel Blaine's pretty topaz eyes boring into his skull), he lets his gaze drop to the overflowing wastebasket next to his unwilling host's desk. There are lots of crumpled papers surrounding it, he notices – he wonders if Blaine's trying to take up songwriting again. (He hopes not, anyway. He was there for Blaine's first attempt at it a few weeks back, and it was painful to watch, not to mention it resulted in a show of caffeine intake that even Kurt thought was unhealthy.)

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Blaine says finally. Somehow, the part of Kurt that still believes _he knows Blaine better than anyone; he's the best friend he has_, tries to convince the countertenor that Blaine isn't really _angry_. Despite all his efforts to avoid doing so, Kurt can't help but risk a glance at his companion's face, to see if _he was right, if he didn't make it up in his head when he thought there was some sort of connection between them_.

As it turns out, he is right. Blaine's gaping at him like he's insane, but it's not in a _bad _way. (Kurt has no idea how he'll manage to explain that one to Mercedes and Jeremiah later.) He actually looks somehow _amused_, and Kurt's torn between wanting to gape right back and demand _Are __**you **__fucking kidding __**me**__?_, and wanting to just grin at the curly-haired boy and let everything fix itself with a hug.

He settles for something in between: Choking out the desired inquiry between bouts of uncontrollable laughter (laughter that seems to be more and more frequent, he can't help but note) as he frantically attempts to figure out _what the hell is going on_. Because he's getting the feeling that he's in the Twilight Zone, considering that if _Kurt _had sung to someone like Blaine had, and had promptly gotten shut down, he would immediately crawl back into that hole of mortification within seconds of hearing that particular song again. (It's why he hasn't been able to listen to "A House is Not a Home" – or anything by Burt Bacharach, really – without turning bright red, since Tina, Quinn, and Artie pointed out, very kindly, that his performance of the song was transparently-motivated and made the group, as a whole, highly uncomfortable.)

"Shit, Kurt – Kurt, are you okay? Breath, Kurt, oxygen," Kurt becomes faintly aware of Blaine worrying, as the boy drops onto the bed next to him and rests a hand on his shoulder for no apparent reason, other than his own penchant for physical contact. Wiping the humiliating few tears that leaked from his eyes away, Kurt nods, and coughs in a sad attempt to cover his outburst. Blaine doesn't say anything about it, and simply quirks a triangular eyebrow in a way that Kurt desperately appreciates.

"I'm sorry," Kurt mumbles in reply, folding his hands over his knee and glancing up at the Katy Perry poster on the ceiling as he drops his voice lower and lets its usual smoothness break into a rather hoarse whisper. "That…was really rude, and I shouldn't have done it, even considering the circumstances. You wouldn't do that to me, and I was completely unfair to you. I didn't mean to hurt you."

With the way that Blaine nods, and wraps his arm around both of Kurt's shoulders, Kurt knows that his message – his _real_ message; his apology for the intolerant things he said to his friend who _really needed him_ – has been received loud and clear. Sighing, he drops his forehead to rest carelessly against Blaine's, and hopes that he doesn't get pushed away.

The corners of amber and aquamarine eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and Blaine nods his head _ever so slightly_ in acceptance. He doesn't answer the apology verbally, in favor of pulling Kurt the smallest bit closer, and Kurt lets his eyelids drop closed as he breathes in the much-missed scent of _Blaine_. He smells like cotton, and green tea, and Kurt loves it more than he'd ever be willing to say.

But there's something missing, he can't help but think as Blaine murmurs a gentle, "I've missed you," against his cheek. Somehow, he can't shake the feeling that there's something that's being forgotten – something _important_ – and it momentarily distracts him from what Blaine's saying.

"Hello? You in there?" Blaine teases softly, giving Kurt a careful shake. Kurt's eyes fly open, and he finds himself looking into the stunning brown ones that, until lately, have haunted his dreams mercilessly. Kurt lets out a quiet groan of frustration, and drops his weight fiercely against Blaine, knocking the two of them to a surprisingly more comfortable lying position on the bed.

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologizes again as he nestles his head into the somehow not-so-tempting expanse of flesh between Blaine's shoulder, and neck. "I'm a little distracted today – what were you saying?"

With a breathy laugh, Blaine runs his fingers through Kurt's hair affectionately – before the digits are pulled away with a mild glare, and the return of the reminder, "_Blaine_, I spend more time on my hair than I do sleeping" – and repeats, "I was asking about the ringtone. I could understand if it was _mine_, after the Gap Attack, but I didn't text you. Which makes me think that it's someone _serious._ So tell me about him."

Rolling his eyes at the prompting, though smiling, Kurt intertwines his fingers with those on the hand of Blaine's he still holds. "It's nothing _serious_, I promise you. If it was, do you really think that I wouldn't have told you? Even if only to spite you, honey." He's kidding, mostly, and Blaine seems to be able to tell as much, by the way that he grins, but tightens his grip on Kurt's hand just the same. "I set it as a joke, because he set mine as "Under the Sea."" The statement is punctuated with another eye roll, and he briefly wonders roughly how many times it's been that Jeremiah's made him wish that he hadn't told him about something. (In this case, the thought that he looked like a Sebastian.)

This time, Blaine's the one laughing, and Kurt can't help but laugh along with him as he feels the vibrating of Blaine's chest beneath his head. "From _The Little Mermaid_?" Blaine clarifies breathlessly. Kurt responds in the affirmative with a good-natured nudging of his elbow to Blaine's side, before the older male hurriedly insists that he's "not laughing at you, I swear – no, really, you know I love Disney," (it's the truth; Kurt knows _all too well _that Blaine loves Disney, thanks to their movie nights that have often been filled with singing animals and skipping candelabras) and that he's only amused because "Now I'm going to keep thinking of you combing your hair with a fork – _really_, I promise I'm not laughing at you – _don't look at me like you don't believe me, I swear on my Katy Perry poster!_"

When Blaine's breathing – finally – ceases to be erratic and broken by chortling, Kurt forgives him with the stern warning that, "You're lucky that I love you, Anderson."

The declaration stops things for a moment, as Kurt realizes only when Blaine goes still what he's just said. Before the pause can get to be too awkward (more awkward than Kurt turning what he thinks must be an interesting pallor, anyway), Kurt adds an unusually high-pitched, "So, what's up with the wasted trees?" in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

Blaine hesitates before giving him a curious look, only to blush when Kurt indicates the overflowing trash bin with a nod. "I was trying to find a song to tell you I'm sorry. The Warblers all gave me suggestions – Thad came up with four pages of songs he thought were appropriate to our situation on his own – and they were all, uh, really horrible," he admits cautiously, before nuzzling his nose into Kurt's hair.

Kurt overlooks the offense to his locks, instead opting to play with the callused pad of Blaine's thumb. "You really thought that singing about it would work? You have a remarkable voice, Blaine; don't take this as me not wanting to hear it, but sometimes things get across better if you just say them. You don't always need a showy performance to make a point," he comments thoughtfully, while his mind wanders to a conversation he and Jeremiah had had – Tuesday? It might have been Wednesday, he thinks – about clichéd eighties high school movies.

(_"I'm not trying to say that it wasn't really cool what he did –"_

"_If you think riding up to someone's house on a lawnmower is cool, I think that this friendship is doomed. No really, I think I have to leave right now so that we can nip this in the bud. I should have known not to trust a ginger."_

"_That's a lie, and you know it, Drago. You're already way too invested in my insightful ways to cut it off. __**Anyway**__, for as awesome as it was, did he really have to be that…y'know, attention-seeking about it? I think that showing up at her doorstep with flowers – or maybe just one - would have achieved the same effect, and it would have been way less showoffy."_

"_I'm sorry, did you call me Drago? His name was __**Draco**__, babe. __**Draco**__. I bet Blaine's pacing right now because of the disturbance in the Harry Potter universe."_)

"Think so?" Blaine asks quietly, the fingers of his free hand dancing up and down Kurt's shoulder aimlessly while the brunette smiles softly at the memory, and gives a small nod. "Huh. Maybe that would have worked better with Jeremiah," Blaine jokes lightheartedly as Kurt makes an attempt to not choke on air.

Kurt's weak, neutral response of, "Uh huh," must come across as being as suspicious as it is, because Blaine proceeds to pull his hands away from Kurt's person, and prop himself up on his elbows to stare down at the countertenor inquisitively.

"What's that about?" he asks, sounding mildly hurt as Kurt rolls off of him, and onto his side. He quickly finds a way to occupy his mind by admiring the poster that Blaine has on the slightly-ajar door to his closet – one for _Chicago_. (The film version of it, anyway, though Kurt can't fault him for that, considering that he owns the movie himself.) "He wasn't out of my league – was he?" Blaine adds in a fearful almost-whimper that presses Kurt to shut his eyes again, this time in resignation, and take a deep breath to steady himself.

It's in that deep breath that it finally appears to Kurt what he thought he was forgetting – what's wrong with curling up against Blaine and thinking _I'm in love with him_; what's different now about how easily he says he loves Blaine, without it ever occurring to him that _he's confessing_; what's missing as he tries to memorize Blaine's smell, only to find that there's _something not there_ that _should be_.

Blaine doesn't smell like coffee. He may drink it like a mad man, but the aroma doesn't linger on him like it would on someone who works around it for eight hours every day. He may spend most of his free time in a coffee shop, but the fragrance doesn't stick to him like it would on someone who works behind the counter five days a week.

Blaine doesn't smell like coffee, and Kurt's heart insists on connecting that warm feeling of _I feel like a preteen girl with her first crush _tothat particular scent.

With a sudden anxiety about him, Kurt sits upright very abruptly, and turns to give Blaine a poor attempt at a comforting smile. "No, no, _no_, definitely not. You're perfect, Blaine – not really, of course, but – you're a great guy," he assures, taking up his friend's hand and hoping that he's imagining the sweating of his palms. "He was absolutely not out of your league; you could have any guy you want faster than I can say Marc Jacobs' spring collection."

It takes a moment for Blaine to respond, and Kurt briefly fears that Blaine _knows_, that _somehow _he just _knows _who Kurt's been talking to, and what Kurt's just realized in his presence. When Blaine does respond, however, Kurt's worries are assuaged, and the dapper male gives him a grateful smile laced with relief. "Thank you, Kurt, really," he says sincerely.

Kurt feels like he doesn't deserve the gratitude, and hopes that his face doesn't show as much.

When it appears as though it doesn't, Kurt almost wishes that it had, because Blaine's suddenly grinning very mischievously, and he orders, "Now that we've talked about my failures at love – tell me about your potential successes. Who's this guy you want to get alone? Do you need backup to sing for him?"

Urgently averting his gaze, Kurt admires the scholarly messy state of Blaine's bookshelf, and offers a noncommittal answer of, "Nope, no singing in the near future for me. He's just a friend, and I'm sure it's nothing more than a passing infatuation." His attempt at dismissal fails miserably, even to his own ears, and Blaine shoots him an amused grin, and a raising of an all-knowing eyebrow.

"I don't want to screw anything up – or jinx anything – so, can we stop talking about him for now? I promise I'll tell you eventually, just…when it's passed," Kurt says, begging Blaine more with his eyes than anything else for him to let the subject go.

Blaine concedes, but does so with a smirk. "A month. Tell me in a month, whether it's just a "passing infatuation" or not – because if it's not, I _will _rally the Warblers, and Rachel and Mercedes, behind me to get you to do something about it."

Kurt gives a wintry smile, and presses a fond kiss to Blaine's cheek in appreciation. He makes a point of not mentioning that he and Rachel don't speak anymore, for the sake of not bringing up the awkwardness they're finally getting past. He also doesn't mention that Mercedes has met Kurt's elusive "crush," or that she's been teasing him almost nonstop for the past two weeks about his _not-really-a-home-wrecking crush on the coffee boy _that he's only now seeing for himself.

Instead, he bids his friend – one of his _best friends_, whom he's missed _terribly_ – goodbye, and heads back to his own dorm.

Once there, he sends Jeremiah a brief update that he doesn't think to think about until it's already sent (_I talked to him; everything's okay now. It's actually the fault of your fantastic texting intuition, and Robin Thicke's creepy songs, that we are. Yes, I still haven't changed it. (; _), and calls Mercedes with nervous hands doing the dialing.

"Hey boo, what's up? Jer just sent me a victory text, so I'm guessing you finally talked to your boy?" her smooth voice carries over the line as Kurt sets about pacing the length of his dorm.

"Yeah," he confirms distractedly.

His best girl makes a thoughtful noise on the other line, before deadpanning, "You finally figured it out, didn't you?"

He doesn't bother acknowledging that with an answer before he drops onto his bed and begins to relay his revealing visit to her in excruciating detail. When he's finished, all she has to say is "You know how I love to say it, hon – I _told _you so. I can read you like a book, remember?"

_**xoxox**_

**AN: **So I decided to continue this because I have been bored out of my skull lately. (Read: I'd love some prompts.) I usually fail at updates, but this one's been pretty interesting for my muse so far…I have high hopes for it to actually get finished.

**AN (2): **I'm seriously touched by the responses that the first part received. No really – thank you to everyone who reviewed; you guys really inspired me. :,D (And comforted me. I'm glad that it's not just the upholstery cleaner that made me think Kurt and Jeremiah could potentially be something.)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt manages to last a whole four days of not-so-awkward contact with Jeremiah (not-so-awkward contact that usually left him reintroducing his face to his palm only _afterwards_, as he related to the tales to Mercedes - who had _very conveniently _been _very busy _the days that she had been invited along), before his concerns become insurmountable, and the full force of his affections finally hits him.

Unfortunately, said full force hits while in Jeremiah's presence, and his abrupt change in mood (shown through a sudden stiffening of the posture, widening of the eyes, and paling of the complexion) is apparently very noticeable, at least to the older male joining him on a walk down the barren and unattractive sidewalks of Lima.

"What's the matter?" Jeremiah inquires with the subdued concern that Kurt's come to expect from him – subdued concern that indicates he _cares_, but that he's not about to drop everything to fix what he seems to instinctively know isn't _serious_. It's one of his more attractive personality quirks, Kurt's found his mind thinking regularly; Jeremiah's relaxed attitude is a pleasant foil to the overprotective (but endearing) one his father has, and the overstated (but entertaining) one Blaine's of nature to use, and even the occasionally unnecessarily-sassy (but always brilliant and exceptionally-placed) one of Mercedes.

Kurt takes a moment to consider that point yet again, before opening his mouth to make a reply and finding himself with the realization that _he doesn't have a friendship-appropriate answer to give. _Electing instead to give a wordless reply, Kurt shrugs slightly and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his much-missed Marc Jacobs jacket. "Nothing," he lies vaguely, as he contemplates prayer yet again for the sake of asking that Jeremiah not press the issue.

When Jeremiah _does _press the issue (by way of an unconvinced glance and a quirking of a corner of his mouth into a knowledgeable half-smile that's more _heartwarming _than it is _intimidating_), Kurt thinks that maybe defying his beliefs, if only for a moment, and making a request of some elusive _God _might have been worth the overwhelming shame. Sadly enough, the thought is too late to do any good, and Kurt's left again to fumbling through the muddled words in his brain.

"I'm just…curious," he begins cautiously, staring straight ahead at the stop sign that's recently been the target of teenage delinquents, and now has a glaring orange addition of an incredibly unoriginal "Don't" spray-painted onto it. (Kurt wonders if it was Puck's drunken handiwork from that party who-knows-how-long ago, considering that he _does _recall that the mohawked boy, Artie, and Sam had disappeared for a short period of time. He dismisses that idea quickly, with the reasoning that _even if he was drunk off his ass, Puck would at least be able to come up with something better than that_.)

Jeremiah snorts softly (upon looking over at him, Kurt sees that it's directed at the stop sign, as well), before repeating in mild urging, "Curious."

"Curious," Kurt says again with a fleeting feeling of determination. It's all too fleeting, as a second later, he hesitates with his following statement, but it's there for the moment, and he feels a kind of _courage _because of it. "One of the reasons you gave Blaine after the Thicke disaster was that you'd get arrested, because he's underage," Kurt points out carefully, with the temporary fear that _it's a really inappropriate topic for conversation_. (Which it actually is, he's sure, but usually Jeremiah doesn't mind those sorts of things so much.)

With a nod, Jeremiah confirms what Kurt already knows it true, and admits, "That was a half-lie. He's past the age of consent, anyway." The way that he says it is the way that he says everything else – easily, like he's not above even confessing his untruths, despite the fact that he could very easily be put into a bad light because of such confessions. Kurt admires him for it, and gives him a warm smile that he hopes conveys the statement of _I don't mind that you're not perfect_. Jeremiah smiles back without the relieved gratitude that most other people would have.

Lightly nudging Jeremiah's arm, Kurt responds, "He and I noticed that. It was very insensitive, by the way, to say that. If it was just that you weren't interested, you should have said something. But he seems to think that you're actually very concerned about people even _thinking _that you're dating someone under the age of eighteen, whether they're of an age that would be condonable in a court of law, or not."

"Who says I'm not?" Jeremiah retorts with a flicker of amusement in his eyes as they reach the curb, and simultaneously spin on their respective heels to head back in the direction of Kurt's recently-departed home. Rather than making some unhelpful remark about how they happen to move in sync, and how that's a surefire sign of compatibility or something equally declarative of where his feelings lie, Kurt rolls his eyes at his companion's obvious joke.

It seems to be not quite so obvious when Jeremiah gives him a smile reminiscent of the ones Finn gives when he has absolutely no idea what's going on, and when he ask with mutedly playful indignation, "What's so unbelievable about that? There are a million and one reasons why I could seriously think that, and more than half of them could be traumatic. How do you know that _you're _not being the insensitive one here?"

He does have a valid point, and Kurt concedes that to him with an equally insincere sense of begrudging (which Jeremiah accepts with a good-natured laugh and a notation that, "I should have recorded that – _you, _accepting that you could be _wrong? _I'm shocked"). Kurt proceeds, however, to dispute the _valid point _with an argument based in his personal experiences of rumor deflection. "It's unbelievable because you and I are together a lot, and even though _we _know that we're not – together," Kurt says, his voice faltering _just _where he'd hoped that it wouldn't; on the word that he regrets having to say following a negating word like _not_. "To a lot of people, we _look _like we are."

"That explains why your friend Sam told me what lengths he'd go to to protect you," Jeremiah comments thoughtfully. Kurt nods, and makes an elaborate gesture with his hands as if to say the unnecessary and mutually-understood statement of _There we have it_.

"So if you _were_ afraid of people thinking you're a cradle-robber, I don't know why you'd be as okay with spending time with me in public as you are," Kurt says in conclusion, though he makes the self-depreciating point of including the addendum that, "I look younger than Blaine does, anyway – I have a babyface, I know," a moment after.

Jeremiah doesn't answer at first, and Kurt takes advantage of the wordlessness to consider every and all unconstructive result of their conversation. As he begins to think of the many situations in which Jeremiah could make it expressly clear that he no longer wants to associate with Kurt – standing him up for their weekly Wednesday midmorning-afternoon coffee meetings is the most frightening, by far – however, Jeremiah interrupts the train of terrified thought with the casual observation of, "You don't have a babyface."

Kurt's suddenly very grateful for winter, the rotation of the earth in respects to the sun, daylight savings time, and all the other factors that result in it being ominously dark outside, despite being not even eight yet. The dim lights from the streetlamps aren't nearly enough for Kurt to make out anything as far as Jeremiah's countenance goes –he can faintly make out the basic shapes of his features, but that's about the extent of it – and he's confident in thinking that Jeremiah can't see anything on his, either. Including the blush that Kurt feels himself sporting as he murmurs an embarrassingly meek, "Thank you."

The air around them is apprehensive, and not just from the silence, or the gloomy surroundings. Hastily, Kurt utters a brief apology in the form of, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up," and hopes that it's sufficient enough to assuage the awkward tensions that he and Jeremiah rarely have between them.

"No, it's okay," Jeremiah assures almost instantly, his voice pleasant and free of judgment or irritation. Kurt isn't sure which absence pacifies his unease more, but he _is _sure that their combined nonappearance is enough for him to release an exhalation of relief, that Jeremiah very politely doesn't mention. "You're right – like you usually are," he declares simply. Kurt smiles lightly at the interjection of his eternal accuracy, before Jeremiah continues. "I like Blaine a lot; he's a really cool guy."

Nodding, Kurt says nothing about Jeremiah's questionable choice of adjectives as he instead focuses on empathizing with Jeremiah's reasons for his aforementioned insensitivity.

"And I'm sure that he'll make somebody a great boyfriend someday."

Another nod; Kurt's thought the same thing on many an occasion, though as of late it's been less frequent than it once had been. (It's also been less of a dreamy idea, no longer clouded with fantasies and fairy tale-style happy endings, and simply being a favorable notion about his friend.)

"But I have a type, you know? And he's…not really it."

At this point, Kurt frowns, and turns to look at his shadowed friend skeptically. "No," he denies slowly, his voice laced with confusion and an undertone of disappointment as he comes to the abrupt conclusion that _he's not Jeremiah's type, either_, if Rachel's (now silenced) insistences that _he and Blaine are two sides of the same coin _are any source of information to be trusted. "I don't know, though I'm fairly certain that you're not anywhere near shallow enough to mean that it's because he's short," Kurt acknowledges softly, as Jeremiah's eclipsed features begin to change into…_some _expression of _something _that Kurt _really wants to see_.

And then, Jeremiah laughs. Not a loud laugh, or even a _chuckle _– it sounds forced, and uncomfortable, and it's nothing like the happy, unstressed laugh of his that Kurt usually loves. Halting his forward procession, Kurt stares up at the strawberry blonde, who in turn also stops, and stares intently up at the starless sky.

"I think you think I'm better than I am," Jeremiah jokes weakly, apparently to the air, as he seems to avoid looking at Kurt like an ocular plague. Kurt tries not to feel hurt, and averts his gaze to the cracks on the sidewalk. "Not because he's short – even if he's maybe the shortest guy his age that I've ever met. I just can't see us getting on – he's…_him_. He always has to make a statement, and apparently he likes to do it through song. You know me. I don't like that kind of attention, especially not around here."

"The gay kind of attention, you mean?" Kurt suggests sharply, though he regrets the bite his words carry when Jeremiah seems to _flinch_ at their vocalization. He just doesn't regret it enough to take them back, and continues glaring at the sidewalk he thinks he's going to hold personally responsible for the uncomfortable dynamic that this discussion's spawned.

Jeremiah starts walking again, and Kurt follows more out of obligation (his house is in that direction, and he'd rather not have to circle around to get home if it can be avoided) than a desire to hear the explanation he knows his…_Jeremiah_ is formulating.

"I don't," Jeremiah argues in what sounds like quiet resignation, though to _what_, Kurt doesn't bother trying to discern. "Me being in the closet and Blaine being out has nothing to do with it. I just mean that he's over-the-top when it comes to how he feels – he's affectionate, and makes everything really obvious. I'm not looking for someone I can drag into Narnia with me, if that's what you're thinking," he says pointedly, sounding mildly frustrated with what the conversation's forced him to have to explain to someone like _Kurt_, who most likely _won't understand _because he's _theatrical._

It is relatively close to what Kurt was thinking – that _he's not what Jeremiah wants, because he's __**proud**__ of who he is, and he's not afraid to show it _– but he makes an effort to not reveal as much, and continues glowering at the scenery in front of him.

With a sigh, Jeremiah runs a hand through the tresses that the hood of his ratty brown jacket hides from sight, and seems to seriously deliberate something before picking up again. "More like you. My type is, I mean. Someone who wouldn't serenade a person – or would at least choose a less creepy song, and wouldn't do it in a workplace. Out, but they treat it like it's just another part of their personality, and they don't go out of their way to try and make a production of it. Friendly, but not so touchy-feely that they have to be touching someone every second of the day."

As Jeremiah speaks, Kurt tries to listen – he really does _try_ – but ends up failing. He defends his social faux pas by insisting to himself that _anyone _in his situation would zone out and go into a near-catatonic state of euphoric shock after being told that _he's Jeremiah's type_.

Except even for not listening, even Kurt can't help but become vaguely aware of when Jeremiah stops talking, and ends his speech with an inquisitive lilt that Kurt has _no idea how to respond to. _He settles for a squeaked response of the ever-intelligent, "Um?" and blushes a color he thinks must be comparable to _crimson_, considering the universally-understood fact that _saying something you don't want to once is bad, but having to repeat it makes everything that much worse._

"I said," Jeremiah begins quietly, his hands buried in his hoodie's pockets as he finds something fascinating to stare at on the cement beneath his feet. Kurt thinks for a moment that it might be the series of small cracks that he's always thought look remarkably like a mountain lion, before he remembers abruptly that _it's desperately important to listen. _"That I really like you, and that if maybe you'd be interested in giving me – us, I guess – a chance, we could see a movie tomorrow?"

"Don't we always?" Kurt hears himself retorting in response, before it occurs to him that he shouldn't. Flushing again, he nervously withdraws a hand from his pocket and adjusts a strand of hair that he _thinks _has been dislodged from its hairspray-hold. "Wait, I didn't mean to say that," he amends quickly, as Jeremiah makes a quiet, amused noise next to him that sounds _so normal,_ he almost forgets why things didn't feel so light and simple three minutes ago. "What I meant to say was that, that sounds nice, and I'd like it very much."

Jeremiah grins, and finally catches Kurt's eyes again. It's in that motion that Kurt very abruptly realizes that _they're in front of his house_, because he can actually _see _Jeremiah's smile. (Thanks to the porch light that he's fairly certain his father has left on specifically for the purpose of observing what Jeremiah's lucky will be a completely appropriate farewell.) Kurt thinks for a moment that Jeremiah's going to say something more – something silly and inconsequential, something said just to fill the void, something that'll remind Kurt yet again why _he really likes this guy_ – and it seems like he's right, even when Jeremiah reaches out a not-particularly-_friendly_ hand to rest on Kurt's cheek.

Except at the same time, he's _really, really wrong_. Because it's not something inconsequential, and it's not just something to fill the void – it's something that means _a lot to Kurt_, because _it clarifies that tomorrow won't be just another movie outing between friends_.

"Just wondering – would you hate me if I were to try that yawn and stretch thing tomorrow? I need to know if I have to psych up by watching more clichéd high school movies tonight."

Kurt's answer of, "Weren't you going to watch them anyway?" catches in his throat when a severely chapped set of lips presses against his forehead for only a second, before pulling away and curling up into a sheepish smile. All Kurt can manage in reply to that is a warm smile of his own, that stays even after they've bid one another their _good night_s and _see you tomorrow_s.

(It even manages to survive his father's questions of _Who was that?; Is he on your team?; Does he go to your school?; Are you two a…an __**item**__?_ and the demand of _I want to meet that boy_, after Kurt answers a neat succession of the explanations _Jeremiah; yes; no; hopefully after tomorrow_.)

_**xoxox**_

**AN: **CAPSLOCK OF VICTORY.

Jeremiah's been listed. :,D

**AN (2): **Holy hell, people read this story. I love you guys, so thank you everyone who alerted, favorited, and reviewed. I'm now becoming increasingly terrified of not living up to your expectations, however, so excuse me while I alternate between flailing and pacing.

**AN (2): **I have no idea how old Kurt's supposed to be in the canon (did he really get retconned back a year? 'cause I be calling bullshit), but I'ma make him seventeen here. Because I follow the laws of parallels and Sing-A-Long Sound of Music. Mmhm.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Jeremiah and Kurt usually do the same thing every weekend, to the point that it's almost scarily predictable. On Fridays, when Kurt comes back to Lima after the unquestionably _mandatory _Warblers rehearsals end, he stops by Jeremiah's place of employment (without the Warblers in tow, thankfully) just as Jeremiah's shift draws to its end. They sit down at a small table by the window that might as well be _their table _by now, and talk about everything and anything. (Though the obligatory, "I can't believe you're not sick of coffee by now," from Kurt always manages to pop up in there at some point.)

By the time their drinks are gone, they've covered _just _about everything there is to talk about, and they've both reached the similar point, careful point of _I think that if I spend any more time with you, I might get sick of you_. Their (very temporary) goodbyes ensue, and Kurt always rushes off first, citing "Friday Night Dinners." Jeremiah _doesn't _watch Kurt leave, and _doesn't _stare wistfully at the empty chair across from him for a few minutes before he follows suit, and heads back to his apartment for the ever-fascinating joys of studying.

Saturdays, they always meet up at the (pitiful, according to Kurt) shopping center that Lima affords, and first make their way to the movie theater. There, they go to see whatever's playing next, and more often than not revel in the hilarious horrors of cinema. Afterwards, they head back to the mall, and Jeremiah finds himself again thrust into the insanity of the New Directions, and the people that Kurt calls his friends.

So when Jeremiah and Kurt meet up in the parking lot of the mall this specific Saturday, it shouldn't feel like everything holds _so much importance _now. Except _it really does_, and it's almost overwhelming as Jeremiah stares at Kurt, and Kurt stares at Jeremiah, and the two of them just wear _blank _faces that say _they have no idea where to go from this point_.

Kurt's the first one to say something, and Jeremiah's unsurprised by as much. What he _is _surprised by is when Kurt begins his statement with a loud sigh, and says very bluntly, "This shouldn't be uncomfortable. We're friends, and we just happen to have feelings other than platonic ones for each other. It happens all the time, and it's perfectly understandable that we're acting on them. What's _not_ understandable is why we're both acting like this is a bad idea. We should at least give it a fighting chance."

He has a point, Jeremiah understands, but he also has more _courage _than Jeremiah does, and that's the problem. It changes from a _problem _to an _obvious problem _when he nods wordlessly, and Kurt gives him a vaguely disappointed, but _accepting _smile.

"I'm going to try exceptionally hard to charm you, you should realize?" Kurt jokes – or maybe _warns_; Jeremiah's not entirely sure, though he does know that it's some unexplainable part of the allure – over his shoulder as he strides ahead towards the theater. Jeremiah's left shaking his head and dwelling on _the uniqueness that is Kurt_ as he trails after.

When they enter the movie theater, Kurt's attention immediately directs itself to the screen times, and Jeremiah does the same to survey the pitiful showing options in search of the _most_ pitiful. "What do you think – _Red Riding Hood_ in four minutes, or _Rango_ in eleven?" Kurt inquires nonchalantly as he glances over at Jeremiah, a flicker of some sort of longing passing over his features as Jeremiah catches Kurt's _greenbluesilver _eyes darting down to Jeremiah's hand.

Jeremiah pretends to not notice what he's seen, and instead gives Kurt a mischievous grin while answering, "_Rango _is supposed to be half-decent – I think we should see _Red Riding Hood_." He also pretends to not notice the way that Kurt crosses his arms over his chest in a show of self-restraint, and pretends that he doesn't feel like a tool because of it. It's easier to do than he would have expected, probably because of the way that Kurt's countenance isn't reading _bitter _at all, but Jeremiah still experiences a pang of regret as the ticket salesman (middle aged, with a look on his face that makes Jeremiah think he's forever stuck with a sour taste in his mouth) doesn't feel the need to bat an eye when Kurt asks for two tickets.

"Put your wallet away," Kurt orders lightly as Jeremiah starts to pull his worn leather one from his jacket pocket. "I'm buying the tickets this week – unless you think that's _your _job?" he adds with a raised eyebrow. Jeremiah rolls his eyes, and grins back at Kurt, catching by way of peripheral vision the way that the ticket man's features now come across infinitely more _disdainful_.

Submitting to Kurt's instructions, Jeremiah stuffs his wallet back in, only to turn towards the snack counter and approach with defiance in his step. "Diet Coke, and popcorn with no butter," he calls knowledgably over his shoulder (though he flushes at the way it echoes in the semi-emptiness of the lobby) when Kurt makes a questioning noise that sounds _sort of _like a chipmunk.

Jeremiah repeats the statement to the regular girl behind the counter, who goes about filling the order with about as much interest as Jeremiah's come to expect from the Saturday staff at the theater. She does, however, pause in their exchange of cash so as to ask him in a lazily intrigued sort of way, "So is it official now, or…?"

The way that Jeremiah's mouth falls fish-esquely open (and stays that way for several seconds before he remembers his ability to speak) is apparently answer enough for her, and she chuckles to herself. He swallows hard once, then again as he contemplates his verbal response, only to have it cut off by Kurt's presence at his side. Kurt looks back and forth between Jeremiah and the again-listless cashier twice, before accepting his drink with a courteous, "Thank you," and leading Jeremiah down the left hall towards the red sign reading "Riding Hood."

"You know my movie order," Kurt says thoughtfully as he gently nudges Jeremiah's arm, a faint blush staining his cheeks. Jeremiah feels the same coloration joining his complexion and nods twice, before he pushes open the door. "You know that that's a big thing? Or maybe it's not – but it's common knowledge to you that I think it is?" the brunette notes softly as he weaves through unfilled rows to reach one in the middle of the theater.

It _is _common knowledge to Jeremiah that Kurt thinks memorizing someone's regular order is important, and he doesn't bother to hold back his smile as he responds, "Why do you think I know your movie order?"

The dimming of the lights prevents Jeremiah from _clearly_ seeing Kurt's features, but he _does _recognize the one thing that he can always make out on Kurt's countenance, even in poorly lit areas – Kurt's blush. He doesn't acknowledge it for Kurt's benefit, and wordlessly takes his seat next on the right of the countertenor, who leans in slightly towards him. Jeremiah mimics the motion, and before long, the open sequence is playing, and the two of them are stifling inappropriate giggles.

Jeremiah doesn't pay attention much to the plot. He's pretty sure that he's not missing anything, anyway, by being more interested in the way that Kurt giggles every time Jeremiah adds his own commentary under his breath, and the way that Kurt's continually leaning _very invitingly _closer to him. Distantly, he's also aware of someone behind them hissing a frustrated _Shhh!_ (to Jeremiah's surprise; he was under the impression that he and Kurt were the only ones who bothered to pay to see the film), but that aside – he doesn't observe much.

Until about thirty minutes in, anyway, when he starts to pay _a lot more attention_ – to Kurt. With a distinctly pointed yawn, Jeremiah leans away from Kurt, only to drape his arm over the younger male's _not quite narrow _but _definitely not broad _shoulders. Kurt turns to him with a large, unmistakable grin as he whispers, "I thought you were kidding about that."

Jeremiah shakes his head with a mock frown on his lips as he solemnly replies, "I wouldn't kid about something as serious as clichés." His answer is a quiet chuckle from Kurt (prompting another _Shhh!_, which Jeremiah regards with an apologetic ducking of the head), and a victorious beaming of his own.

For the remainder of the film, Jeremiah's arm stays around Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt continues resting against Jeremiah with the emanation of a warmth that almost distracts Jeremiah from the task of mocking the movie to within an inch of its theater-life. (Only almost, though. Kurt seems to be grateful that it doesn't entirely distract him, judging by the way that he still snorts at Jeremiah's input, and still attempts to sneak him the occasional _tender look_.)

_**xoxox**_

Kurt and Jeremiah only find themselves waiting in the midst of the mall for about two minutes after they escape the movie theater (making a point to avoid the angry woman from three rows behind them), and after Kurt taps out a hasty text to whatever friends it is that he was set to meet up with this weekend.

When _whatever friends _show up, they make their presences known with a cheerful shout of, "Kurt!" from an assumed female, and a pleasant, "Hey, Kurt!" from an evident male. Jeremiah gives Kurt a bemused glance that he never ceases to find fitting when he meets someone from the "New Directions," and Kurt answers with his same shrug that always says _What can you do?_

Turning around, Kurt looks affectionately at the short girl and who Jeremiah thinks is her lanky boyfriend as they approach with excited footsteps, and wide smiles. "Hello, Chang Squared," Kurt replies amiably, to which _Chang Squared _beam at one another in entertainment, and Jeremiah shifts his weight clumsily from foot to foot. Kurt catches his usual uneasiness, and gives Jeremiah a brief, encouraging smile before his arms are around the girl, and the boy's are around him.

"Mm, I missed you so much this week," Jeremiah hears Kurt bemoan into the girl's dark hair. "I think of you every time that Florence + the Machine comes on anymore, honey – I still can't believe I missed you and 'cedes doing "The Dog Days Are Over."" Jeremiah stares off at the Old Navy display a few stores down, and jams his hands into his hoodie pockets in a blind observation of their contents. He finds his wallet, a few pieces of paper that he thinks are receipts, his cell phone, and some unidentifiable round thing amidst said contents, and muses over the name of _Unidentifiable Round Thing _while curiously observing Kurt's carrying-ons with the Asian pair in front of him.

The girl's pulled back to give Kurt a sorrowful look as she replies, "I missed you a lot more than usual, too. Quinn texted me the other day – believe me, honey, if I told you why she was texting me, you'd have a heart attack on the spot," she interrupts at Kurt's incredulous expression, which changes to one of disapproval as he and Jeremiah both come to the same conclusion that _they were talking about crimes against fashion_. The girl confirms it with a sheepish bowing of her head, that precedes her continuation. "But my ringtone was still our "Bad Romance" – I could have cried. I miss your gender-defying performances so much!"

Jeremiah quells a laugh at the thought of Kurt's _gender-defying performances_, and he momentarily considers the mental imagery of Kurt in one of Lady Gaga's extravagant outfits, before he's shot a silent warning by Kurt. He silently requests an explanation for the aforementioned _gender-defying performances_, but Kurt quickly shakes his head in the universal _I'll tell you later_ motion. Out of the kindness in his heart, Jeremiah concedes silence – mostly out of a surge of fondness for the boy who's now absently tracing a finger along a faded pale blue streak in his friend's hair – but continues grinning. Kurt doesn't bother attempting to glare at Jeremiah, and instead elects to submit himself to good-naturedly accepting the playful teasing that Jeremiah intends to put him through for a _long _time.

"You _could have_ cried?" the other boy repeats with a tone of skepticism as he wraps an arm around his apparent girlfriend's shoulders and raises an eyebrow at her. The girl blushes a pink color that almost matches the dark magenta one on her eyelids, before she begins to splutter an insistence of "I didn't! I have aller –"

The insistence falls silent as Kurt moves a step closer to Jeremiah, and Jeremiah's presence is suddenly brought to full attention. Jeremiah rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as the four of them simply stand there for a few minutes, while other shoppers continue bustling past. When one of them finally speaks again, it's the girl, who murmurs an innocently curious, "_Oh _– is this the guy that we've been hearing about?"

Feeling his cheeks heating up embarrassingly, Jeremiah gives Kurt an easy nudge and a half-smirk before whispering, "_You talk about me?_" Kurt's gaze is instantly turned to focus on that same Old Navy display as he mumbles a response that sounds like, "_Sometimes_," under his breath. In his peripheral vision, Jeremiah notices the boy and girl exchanging a look that recognizes to be _very much amused_, before the female speaks up to clarify that, "It's mostly Mercy who does it, anyway."

"And Sam," the boy adds helpfully from her side. "Though he doesn't really like you that much…" he ponders with a sort of mild commiseration that he punctuates with a passive shrug.

Despite himself, Jeremiah just chuckles quietly and notes, "I _did _get that impression from him." He thinks that he figured it out somewhere between Sam warning him that _Kurt's a great dude – so you screw with him, and I'll find you _and after Jeremiah explained that they weren't dating. At which point Sam had taken the stance of _If you're interested in him – which it looks a little bit like you are; I'm just saying – you shouldn't wait_.

Kurt had apologized for Sam's "overprotective nature" later, when the (false, as Jeremiah was informed) blonde boy who had apparently forgotten that _people in changing rooms can still hear_ had left, but Jeremiah had dismissed it with a nervous laugh, and a fidgeting run of his fingers through his hair. (Kurt hadn't mentioned Jeremiah's most likely obvious discomfort with the topic, and had hastily begun an in-depth analysis of Sam's dye job.)

Stepping closer still to Jeremiah and giving him a semi-apologetic smile, Kurt he finally makes the introductions between his friends and his _kind-of-a-friend-but-with-definite-potential-to-be-more-than-that companion_. "Tee, Mike – this is Jeremiah. Jeremiah, this is Tina Cohen-Chang, and Mike Chang. Commonly referred to as Chang Squared, or Asian Fusion." Tina and Mike both puff up somewhat pridefully at the vocalization of their shared nicknames, and Jeremiah offers a minute smile of his own as he offhandedly wonders if _Asian Fusion _would be offensive to the pair, if not said by their friends.

"So, you're _Jeremiah_," Mike says with flippancy too heavily laid on to be sincere, and with a cautionary tone that Jeremiah knows is in his best interest to act like he's heeding. Kurt and Tina look like they think so, too, as they share an ocular statement something between an _Is he really doing this now? _and a reluctantly adoring _Why am I not surprised?_.

Nodding, Jeremiah leans a hopefully-not-but-probably-incredibly-so-inchcloser to Kurt and responds, "Yeah. It's nice to meet you – you're the dancer, right?" The statement seems to earn some points with the startlingly intimidating teenager, who nods in confirmation, and whose fierce gaze lessens somewhat, though it still remains _very present_ as Mike replies with a sharp, "Yeah," and begins to direct Jeremiah to, "Tell me about –"

Kurt cuts Mike off hastily, with the declaration of, "Mike, you need to see a pair of jeans I saw a few shops down." The statement is punctuated with a clap of his hands in a show of overproduced excitement that Jeremiah can tell that the others see right through, though neither of them says anything. Mike just gives Kurt a weak smile, and Jeremiah a lingering, suspicious glare, before yielding with an obedient, "Okay." Kurt beams, and sets about explaining how "I think they were the perfect cut for you," (because "you're so slender, and skinny jeans do wonders for your figure"). Tina just smirks, and only feels the need to say one word.

"_Whipped_."

The three high school students laugh, while Jeremiah watches in semi-uncertain amusement, before Mike agrees that he is indeed whipped – "By both of you. You're just lucky that I'm a cool guy, and that you two are –well, you two, I guess," – and takes Tina's left hand in his right. Kurt drops into line next to Mike, and Jeremiah follows the example.

They don't go further than two steps before Jeremiah finds himself wracked with internal fretting, and commences the shooting of frequent looks at the slender and empty hand dangling next to him. Kurt doesn't look over at Jeremiah, and appears to be wholly focused on Tina's story about her own and some elusive Brittany's attempted dance lessons with Artie (Artie, as Jeremiah recalls, is the paraplegic who enjoys rapping, but he doesn't have the current mental capacity to ask about it), but Jeremiah can tell that he's _really hoping Jeremiah will step it up_.

It's with that thought in mind, and the desire to not be a cause of Kurt being _upset_, that Jeremiah shakily reaches down to grab Kurt's fingers, while making a point of ignoring everyone else walking past – opting to cast a glance at Kurt, instead, who gives him a heartening smile, but doesn't tighten his limp hold. Jeremiah would be lying to say that he doesn't appreciate the considerate gesture, but he can't help but feel like it's unnecessary, and that he's not doing Kurt any favors by making him feel like he has to give Jeremiah an emergency homosexuality exit.

But at the same time, Jeremiah can't find the cerebral command to hold Kurt's hand any firmer, either, and he ends up leaving their digits weakly intertwined between them. That is, until Mike's free hand takes up Kurt's – prompting a questioning look from the _just barely _shorter boy – and Jeremiah catches the raven-haired male's eyes. Mike nods subtly at him, and Jeremiah tries to convey _Thank you _through sight alone as he threads his fingers more definitively between Kurt's, and Kurt responds with a gratifying squeeze.

They're still drawing attention, Jeremiah sees, but now, it's not just because _two of them are gay_. It's because _they're a human chain like children _and _two of them seem like they're probably gay but you can't be too sure since gays are so sneaky_. Somehow, Jeremiah doesn't feel like he prefers the new disapprovals any more, but he's willing to take what he can get.

_**xoxox**_

As far as shopping goes, Jeremiah usually doesn't get any pleasure from it at all. Granted, with Kurt, he tends to enjoy it a lot more, but then again – he tends to enjoy _everything _a lot more when Kurt is involved. Except this time, he's out shopping with Kurt, but _Kurt is off searching for something _while Jeremiah's left alone in the dressing area with "Chang Squared." And for a fairly harmless appearing skinny guy and a tiny, sweet-sounding girl (with an admittedly terrifying style of dress), the pair of them are unexpectedly daunting duo.

The fact that Jeremiah can tell they're both _particularly _protective of Kurt (although in hindsight, Jeremiah hasn't really met one of Kurt's friends that _isn't_), and that they're not afraid to bring up the room's elephants, is all the more daunting, and Jeremiah figures out early on that _there is no safe topic of conversation_. He gives up on trying after his attempt at a discussion on the weather fails ("Really cold lately," he remarks casually. "Kurt hates the cold," Mike responds bluntly. "Maybe you should give him your jacket," Tina suggests in a way that doesn't really sound much like a _suggestion_, so much as a _command_. "Unless you don't want to give him your jacket?" Mike asks distrustfully, as Jeremiah sighs in defeat.), and accepts his fate of getting the _don't fuck with Kurt, or we'll kill you and make it look like an accident _talk all over again.

"So. What's up with you and Kurt?" Tina asks directly, her hands folded over her knee professionally as she narrows her eyes doubtfully. "Are you two dating, or…" The _or…? _isn't filled in as she and Mike both stare gravely at Jeremiah, and leave their imaginations to filling in the horrifying and hateful possibilities of what Kurt is – or _isn't _- to Jeremiah.

Jeremiah begins with a cough intended only to stall, before he looks down at the hands he has clasped in his lap, and mumbles, "This is number one, so…maybe. We haven't exactly figured that much out yet." He desperately prays that his anxious desire for the other two to not ask if he wants for them to be dating is fulfilled, as Jeremiah's very well aware of the fact that he tends to have awful luck (having worked for an unfriendly homophobe who doesn't appreciate flash mobs comes to mind), and that if he were to answer – lo and behold, Kurt would be standing behind him, eyes fraught with secondhand embarrassment and the sorrowful _Sorry – I don't think this is going to work out _rolling off his tongue.

For one of lately increasing number of times, however, luck's (temporarily) on Jeremiah's side, and the couple sitting across from him in the dressing room _doesn't _ask. Instead, they start to apologize profusely, in the forms of the abrupt realization, "Oh. _Oh. _I'm so sorry –" and the empathetic, "We didn't know we were interrupting, man, we -"

Raising a hand to hush them, Jeremiah shakes his head and assures, "No, no, it's cool. It sort of makes it easier – takes off some of the pressure." Tina looks vaguely confused, but nods, while Mike does the same with a visage more of agreement and understanding.

"Okay," Tina begins slowly, her eyes appearing to be kinder as she watches Jeremiah this time, without the urge to maim. "This is your first date. Is it going to go past this, or do you think you two are better as friends? Because you need to tell him from the start if it won't work," she says knowingly as she leans against Mike, and he wraps an arm around her waist. Jeremiah can only assume that Kurt had had several "girls' nights" after the Valentine's Day disaster, and more recently, the drinking catastrophe, and he can also only assume that Tina was present to see the full effect of what he thinks is acceptable to call _everything_.

It seems like his assumptions are accurate when Mike murmurs a sympathetic, "After what happened with Blaine…" that earns another nod from Tina.

The three sit in silence for a few moments, until Kurt returns with a pair of distressed yellow jeans in his hand (that Mike's giving them _sincere consideration _is something that Jeremiah almost feels that he should applaud him for), which he promptly thrusts into Mike's. Kurt beams gleefully as Mike takes them with an agreeable laugh, before settling onto the bench next to Jeremiah _way too closely for anyone to think that they're just 'bros'_.

But Jeremiah can't bring himself to care as Kurt turns a pout on him and asks, "Can I _please _help you find a new hoodie?" The answer is no, of course, and he tells Kurt as much – to Tina's hilarity, and Kurt's lighthearted groans of (mostly) false irritation – but he thinks that he makes up for it when his arm snakes around Kurt's waist of its own accord, and Kurt turns pink. It's a start, at least.

_**xoxox**_

When Jeremiah and Kurt finally find themselves standing next to their respective vehicles with matching expressions of pleasant uncertainty, neither clearly has any idea of what to say. Jeremiah attempts to say _something _worthwhile with the beginning of, "So," but all the other words he knows fly out of his mind, and the word is left hanging in the last frigid air of winter.

Kurt gives Jeremiah a light smile of reassuring, and Jeremiah suddenly feels more confident as he returns the gesture, and picks up again. "So. Should we pretend this was just another Saturday, and forget that it was supposed to be more? Or can I have permission to spend the next forty-eight hours trying to figure out when I'm allowed to change my Facebook status?"

Grinning, Kurt lifts a thoughtful index finger to his chin and mimes the motion of _intense thought _before he catches sight of Jeremiah's eyes rolling, and he responds, "Consider the permission granted. I'll do the same – you'll be able to tell by the bags under my poor eyes – and will end up swallowing my pride and risking potential humiliation by asking you about it on Monday."

Jeremiah snickers inwardly at the thought of Kurt applying concealer under his eyes to hide bags that will most likely be invisible to everyone else on their own, before he (rather brazenly, considering that _there are other people milling about in the parking lot_) takes Kurt's hand. "I get to see you again? I didn't make a complete fool of myself, to the point where just hearing my name will bring up bad memories?" he teases when Kurt takes advantage of the opportunity and squeezes his hand.

"Even if the date was horrible," Kurt begins in a fond way that almost makes Jeremiah's heart _not _sink at the thought of the date he thought was _actually pretty nice _being _horrible_. "– which it wasn't, mind you; I had a really nice time," Kurt interjects. Jeremiah proceeds to let out a sigh of relief that he only realizes he actually went through with when Kurt raises a perfectly-tamed eyebrow, and blushes faintly. "I still wouldn't want to never see you again. I'm too dependent on your sense of humor, and questionable tastes."

Smirking lopsidedly, Jeremiah makes the triumphant announcement of, "I knew you loved my puns," before his smile softens, and he steps the slightest bit closer to Kurt. With all the movie-style clichéd motions that Kurt knows he loves, Jeremiah stares the short three inches down at Kurt, who stares back while worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Feeling unnecessarily breathless, as the movies have always insisted that a person does when _they're in serious like_, Jeremiah reaches his free hand up to brush a strand of hair from Kurt's eyes, and notes, "Your hair looks good today. I like that style on you."

Kurt's apparently found himself with the same inability to properly inhale (Jeremiah observes as much optimistically), and his voice is low, and raspy, and _really kind of sexy _when he attempts to tease, "Are you implying that it doesn't _always_ look good?"

As soon as he speaks, Kurt seems to realize something, and nervously averts his gaze to where Jeremiah's also noticed a woman ushering her child faster into her car seat. When his blush subsides to a less-crimson hue, Kurt turns to face Jeremiah with the clear intention to apologize (most likely for their public display), but stops before he begins when Jeremiah continues smiling at him like he hadn't seen the woman.

"Not at all," the strawberry blonde affirms casually. "Because, y'know, it does have a tendency to look really good a lot of the time," he points out. The way that Kurt's face lights up is _completely worth the derisive glowering from that woman_, Jeremiah thinks, and he very abruptly finds himself realizing that _he really needs to talk to Blaine again_. Because Jeremiah wants _courage_, and Blaine knows _courage _better than almost everyone. (Maybe not better than Kurt, Jeremiah thinks, but he's reasonably certain that asking Kurt would somehow defeat the purpose.)

"I am aware," Kurt confirms more steadily, leaning in closer to Jeremiah with an unintelligible but _completely fascinating exciting captivating _smoldering in his eyes. Jeremiah really hopes that it's Kurt _flirting_, because if it's just some _natural expression _for him, Jeremiah for once has no idea what he's going to do, in terms of self-control."But thank you for saying so anyway. Yours looks nice, too – it's cute," Kurt adds offhandedly, as his own free hand comes up to twirl a stray lock around his index finger.

Understandably (Jeremiah thinks) bewildered, the taller male gives Kurt a confused half-smile, before admitting sheepishly, "I didn't do anything out of the ordinary to it…" The confession turns his complexion an almost unhealthy scarlet color, but Kurt seems to _appreciate_ as much as his hand drops to rest against Jeremiah's cheek, and he gives Jeremiah a thoughtful look as though he's making sure that _this is real_.

"I can tell," Kurt ribs tenderly, as Jeremiah's face grows hotter, though he feels his smile growing larger. "It works, though. The whole, messy, _I don't really care what my hair looks like, which is why I'm wearing a hoodie _thing typically doesn't work on anyone, but it's endearing on you."

Without thinking, Jeremiah plainly replies, "I'm glad you like it," and only curses himself for his lack of originality when Kurt's already processed what he's said, and is giggling his own reply of, "I'm glad you're glad I like it."

Jeremiah sighs, and drops his head lower to rest his forehead against Kurt's. "This whole dating thing isn't going to make anything awkward between us, is it?" he asks cautiously, while hoping that he doesn't give Kurt the wrong impression and make him think that Jeremiah wants for them to be _just friends _the way that Blaine did.

Smiling warily, Kurt strokes his thumb over Jeremiah's cheekbone and murmurs, "Am I the only person who thinks that relationships are capable of ending by mutual decision and not fiery storms of cruel words and betrayals? Sometimes, 'no hard feelings' can actually mean _no hard feelings_." Kurt pulls back to give Jeremiah a stern look that makes him feel as though Kurt's a good ten years wiser than he actually is, and Jeremiah briefly wonders if Kurt's as mature as he comes off because of everything – _everything _– he's gone through.

"Don't worry," Kurt promises as he steps back and tilts his head gently to the side, scrutinizing Jeremiah in a way that doesn't make the ginger nearly as uncomfortable as he would have expected. "If anything, I'm morally obligated to stay your friend – otherwise, who else would give you the fashion advice you so desperately need?"

Resting his empty hand over his heart, Jeremiah musters the most wounded expression he can and remarks simply, "Ouch."

"Although I will admit that your style – or lack thereof – is endearing, and that that hideous jacket of yours has grown on me," Kurt adds affectionately, with a playful tug on the hem of the hoodie for emphasis.

For a moment, Kurt goes back to nibbling tentatively on his lower lip, before he releases it (a shade redder for wear) and asks carefully, "Would it be proper etiquette for me to kiss you?" Jeremiah could have almost thought it was a joke, if he wasn't so conscious of the effect that some _Dave _guy has had on Kurt, and if he hadn't know exactly _why _that _Dave _guy had had said effect on Kurt. Only he _is _conscious of the effect, and he _does _know exactly why, and he _doesn't _think that it's a joke.

With a small, thoughtful frown that he hopes doesn't come off unkindly, Jeremiah replies, "You don't have to ask…not me, anyway. It's…admirable, that you're a gentleman –" Kurt's countenance turns inquisitive at this, and he casts an unfairly intense stare on Jeremiah. "But I'm not going to say no. And I'm not going to think you're like your closet admirer. Okay? So don't sweat it."

And then Kurt only barely smiles, but Jeremiah thinks it might be his favorite smile of the day. Because the quick, fond, _oh so fleeting _kiss to the cheek that ensues is a lot more satisfying than it should be. "Thank you for that," Kurt whispers gratefully, as Jeremiah feels his face's threat to split at any second.

Jeremiah manages to respond, "Anytime," between goofy grins that only get worse the longer they last.

"I'll text you later?" Kurt says warmly, as he pulls his hand out of Jeremiah's grip with a great deal of reluctance reading off his features.

The response of, "Please do. Otherwise I might start going through withdrawal," swiftly follows, and Jeremiah goes so far as to add a hearty wink for good measure. And despite the implication by Kurt's sarcasm that he's not nearly as charmed by Jeremiah's sense of humor as he said earlier ("You're hilarious – no really, I'm in stitches; can't you tell?"), Jeremiah almost thinks that he and Kurt were just about made for each other.

Because when Jeremiah argues that cheerful point that, "But you love me," Kurt doesn't go pale and become suddenly concerned about the speed of their relationship after one date. Kurt takes it exactly as Jeremiah meant it – as a joke – and rolls his eyes before pulling open the door to his "baby" and confirming the suggestion at face value.

And even though they both meant it in the _friends who love each other platonically but just happen to have other feelings for one another _kind of way, Jeremiah thinks that that could change pretty damn fast.

_**xoxox**_

**AN: **You guys who follow this are great.

**AN (2): **I totally pulled this chapter out of my ass. And it's the longest chapter…which means that it's probably boring as hell. ""oTL

**AN (3): **I apologize to anyone who enjoyed _Red Riding Hood_. TBH, I haven't seen it, but I don't trust anything that has an advert associating it to _Twilight_.

**AN (4): **BTW. Anon by the name of BLINK? I posted some drabbles for you last week, since you caught my Operation Kumception subliminal messaging. You should look at it. And tell me if I hit one of your ships. Y'know. Whatever. JS.

**Shameless Pimping:** I've got an offer on the LJ Fandom Floods Appeal community. … KTB. (http : / / community . livejournal . com / fandom _ flood _ ap / 14297 . html ? thread = 185305 # t 185305)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Except for Jeremiah's personality, I guess?


	5. Chapter 5

Burt knew that this was going to be coming eventually – that Kurt would meet a boy that he _liked_, and that that boy would be _gay_, and that the two of them would have a mutual attraction that they would _act on_. And he accepted that a long time ago. (About when he accepted that _Kurt's gay, plain and simple_, which was somewhere around when Brittany's parents had first assured Burt that _No, no, it's completely fine with us if Brittany spends the night – we trust her and Kurt when they say they're only friends, of course_.)

But that doesn't mean Burt _likes it_. It's not that he thinks he has to _protect Kurt_ from boys, because he'll be damned if Kurt isn't one hell of a (young) man himself. (Kurt can dance to all the pop music he wants in all the sparkly pieces of clothing money can buy, but that doesn't mean that the boy doesn't have a better sense of gentlemanly pride and _respect _for people than more than half of the small-minded bastards that torture him daily.)

Burt's issue with it is more that _it means Kurt's really growing up_. And even though he knows it makes him a sentimental old fool (Carole teases him about it regularly; it's a damn good thing she's _her_, because otherwise he might take it more personally), he's still not quite willing to give up his baby boy if he doesn't have to. He's resigned himself to doing it (reluctantly) when the time comes, sure, but until then? He's not taking _any _chances, and he's not going to let anyone who's not _the right guy _ruin Burt's wistfulness with his only (biological) son.

So, in the wake of _Kurt's first real date _(or, what _will _be_ his_ _first real date_, if Burt deems the guy acceptable), Burt _very generously _convinced Kurt to extend a dinner invitation to his _first official boyfriend _(Burt permitting), Jeremiah. The dinner had passed in a tense and incredibly uncomfortable silence, which Kurt had fruitlessly attempted to fill with small talk that ended up dying a slow and painful death after Finn made an inappropriate comment about how _Jeremiah doesn't look gay at all_. (Followed swiftly by a _wait, that didn't come out right_ and an abrupt _Finn, honey, how's glee club been lately? _from Carole.)

And now, as he sits in the den and _glowers _at the _punk _that Kurt's brought home, Burt is nothing if not prepared to let out all the stops and give this shaggy-haired kid the third degree as best he knows how. Carole, in her own special way, doesn't make an effort to stop him, and just perches herself on the arm of his chair with a grin as he glares across the living room at where Jeremiah's sitting next to Kurt on the sofa, posture stiff as a board. A very rightly _terrified _board, at that.

(Finn tries, and fails, to stifle a laugh from where he's watching in the kitchen doorway. Burt might have laughed at the way that the taller boy shuts up _instantly _when Kurt turns around to give him a fierce look, if it had been a different situation. Instead, he just turns his attentions back to Jeremiah and overlooks the way that Finn moves further into the shadows of the unlit kitchen to continue watching more "stealthily.")

The silence is palpable as Burt watches Jeremiah, and Jeremiah watches Burt, and Kurt watches the two of them with a fearful look in his eyes. When one of them finally breaks the wordlessness, it's Jeremiah, who begins with a well-thought-out, and unexpectedly steady, "It's nice to meet you, sir."

Burt raises an eyebrow and nods in acknowledgement, keeping his expression as intimidating as he knows how to make it. (Which, he's been told by Artie on many an occasion, is _very_.) "Huh," he begins, knowing that it's coming off as unimpressed as it should, even while Kurt gives him _that irritated look_ he uses when Burt tries to convince Finn to sneak him French fries. "What do you say we just get to the point? Preferably with you not using words like _sir _and just calling me Burt instead. I don't mean that for the familiarity of it, I just get the feeling like you're sucking up, even though I'm sure you would _never _do that," Burt says, challenging Jeremiah with his eyes to call him the wrong name.

Kurt tries to interrupt with an exasperated, "_Dad_," before Jeremiah rests a hand on his knee (Burt does _not _approve) and meets Burt's eyes again. Clearly, he's a courageous fellow – Burt doesn't know whether he should make that a point for, or against him yet.

"Okay," Jeremiah concedes evenly, though his tone carries the right amount of _caution _for Burt not to go looking for his flamethrower just yet. "The point is that I like your son a lot, and I want to be called his boyfriend for as long as it works out for us." Burt purses his lips, because he's actually kind of disappointed. He'd been expecting something different – something sappier – something _better_, like the types of lines he's heard in just about every romantic movie he's ever sat through with Kurt. Those types of lines, he'd know how to handle, because he knows how they work – he knows that they just _sound _pretty when a half-plastic actor says them, but that they blow over _real fast _in the real world.

Except he's not dealing with _one of those nice lines_. The side that Jeremiah's going for isn't making any promises that Burt knows he won't keep, and _Burt isn't sure how to deal with that_. Because now, he actually thinks that _Jeremiah might be sincere_. (Even if he is ninety-five percent certain that he knows better, and that _Jeremiah really isn't_.)

Thankfully, Burt _does _know better, so he's able to keep his head, and remain impassive to Jeremiah's polite demeanor and earnest expressions. However, he does also have the pride to admit to himself in that moment that _Jeremiah might not be that horrible_.

Then again, _he really could be that much worse than Burt predicted_, and Burt bears that in mind as he nods, and continues frowning at Jeremiah.

"Well all right then. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Jeremiah – your parents know that you're gay? What about your friends? You get harassed at school? Get shoved around; called names; have your life threatened?" he lists with all the cold indifference he can fake when he's talking about things that are _so goddamn personal _and make him _so goddamn mad_, even though Kurt's always trying to feed him lies like _it's okay; it'll get better; I'm fine_.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Burt sees Finn duck his head, most likely in embarrassment, and he empathizes with his stepson. Though he'd been _pissed as hell _when he'd heard that Kurt's life had been threatened, he's recently thought about it more, and has come to the conclusion that _he can't fault Finn for Kurt staying silent_. Burt knows his son better than anyone (or so he likes to think, anyway, though it's probably actually Mercedes, or Artie, or Tina, or even Quinn or Blaine that knows him best), and Burt knows the way that Kurt deals with things.

He doesn't. He pretends like they don't happen. He pretends like they don't hurt. And he doesn't say _anything_, because even though he's a teenager, and he's selfish by nature – Kurt has this real self-sacrificing streak in him, and he has a tendency to not say a damn word about things that _he should_, because he doesn't want anyone to worry about him. Burt's tried to explain, subtly, to his son that _it's okay to have people worry about you; they do it because they want to, and because they care about you_, but Kurt always seems to somehow stay ignorant to the point. Burt knows that that's not a mistake.

When Jeremiah replies, "My father knows, but my mother doesn't – my parents are split. A few friends do, but not all of them. I don't really spend that much time on campus aside for when I have classes – I have an apartment not too far away from here, actually - so I'm not sure if it's common enough knowledge for anyone to want to try and scare me straight," Burt's caught between two very different trains of thought that both end in a fiery explosion of _rage_.

The first, is that _Jeremiah's not out like Kurt is_. Burt's sure that Kurt has a million defenses ready for this guy – that Jeremiah's just waiting for the right time to tell his mother; that Jeremiah's still coming to terms with his recently-found sexual identity; that Jeremiah's not exactly _in the closet_ so much as he is just _not broadcasting _his sexuality – but Burt doesn't want to hear any of those. None of them will mean a damn thing to him, because _Jeremiah can't be the guy_. Because _Jeremiah isn't as strong as Kurt is_.

The second, is that _Jeremiah isn't in high school_. And _he has an apartment_. _**Nearby**_.

Burt doesn't have to deliberate for a second on which thought to pursue first.

"How old are you, Jeremiah?"

The answer is firstly revealed to be one that's _definitely not good _when Kurt's face goes pale, and he nervously grips Jeremiah's hand – the one that is _still _on his knee, even though it shouldn't have been there in the first place. The answer is confirmed to be _absolutely horrible _when Jeremiah swallows hard before responding hoarsely, "Nineteen."

Before Burt can formulate an appropriate response to this sudden revealing bit of information, Finn's yelling a fittingly loud, "Holy _fuck_!" that Carole doesn't bother to scold him for. Kurt quickly retorts with a frustrated, "_Finn_! I'm _legal_, for Gaga's sake!" which is promptly answered by Finn's incredulous, "You _know _that? Dude, it's not cool when you have to know something like that just so your boyfriend doesn't get _arrested_!" and somehow or other ends up with Kurt shouting, and Finn shouting, and Carole trying to get her bearings, while Burt formulates a plan to get this Jeremiah guy _the hell away from his son_, and "this Jeremiah guy" in question is just sitting there like he's waiting for death by Burt's hands.

"If it helps, I do have plans for my life – a career and everything, I mean," Jeremiah speaks up slowly, as Kurt drops his head definitively onto Jeremiah's brown-clad shoulder. Burt gives Kurt a look of his own – the look that consists of a slightly arched brow and the silent inquiry of _You sure that's a good idea, son? _– in reference to the motion, and Kurt frowns at him before looking away. It's answer enough, and Burt resists the urge to sigh in defeat, under the grounds that _he's not ready to admit defeat until he hears about these so-called __**plans**_.

"I'm studying for a Bachelor's in English. I'd like to be a teacher. It's nothing huge, but it's something, and it's practical enough to be applied anywhere – English classes are mandatory every year from kindergarten to high school, and then there are other branches to pursue…"

His voice trails off as Finn continues muttering something about pedophiles and excrement as he paces the length of the den (Carole weakly tells him to stop, because it's a new rug and she doesn't want him to wear it out already, but he continues like he didn't hear her. Burt thinks that he actually might not have, considering the solemn look on his face.), and as Kurt takes Jeremiah's hands and sighs. Burt has about ten different responses to that – he could tell Jeremiah that _Burt never suggested that he didn't have aspirations; he must have something to hide since he's being so defensive_, or that _that guy who wrote the story about the murderer had aspirations, and probably a Bachelor's in English, too, but that didn't stop him from marrying a thirteen year old_ – but somehow, none of them seem appropriate anymore.

Even though Burt would _really _rather not have to give up the few halcyon days he has left with his son, his _baby_, he has no reason for denying Jeremiah his blessing anymore. Because Jeremiah's an adult, to an only semi-creepy extent, and, as an adult, he's thinking about his future, which Burt has no choice but to respect. He seems to have a decent enough head on his shoulders – although Burt thinks he needs a haircut _immediately _– and he seems polite enough.

The key term throughout all of this is _seems_, Burt reaffirms to himself, and he conveys as much through another glance at Kurt, who's giving him a hopeful look with bright eyes that are _so like his mother's it's like looking at a photo_. Burt gives a slight nod of _tentative _approval, and almost regrets his decision to sanction the nineteen-year-old mop-headed blonde his son's very nearly in the lap of.

But then Kurt's face lights up, and it looks like he lets out a breath of relief as he sags against said nineteen-year-old mop-headed blonde, and murmurs something under his breath. Jeremiah smiles, and Burt doesn't catch what was spoken, but he doesn't try too hard to figure out what it was. Because it was said by Kurt to his _boyfriend_, and just like Burt's _pretty _sure that something went down in the tent (no one will give him a direct answer about that, still – Finn was just as confused as Burt; Carole just giggled at his question and told him not to worry about Kurt or cowboys), Burt's also _pretty _sure that he won't want to know about more than a few of their conversations.

Later, when he's lying in bed next to Carole and he's trying to fall asleep amidst longing memories of the days when Kurt was _so little _and _so innocent _and _so so perfect_, Burt will consider the idea that Jeremiah just said everything he did, just acted the way that he did, to kiss ass. But for now, Burt thinks that he'll give him the benefit of the doubt, and he'll believe Jeremiah when he says that,

"I really care about your son, Mr. Hummel. He's great – funny, smart, easy to talk to, and, um, attractive, even though you probably don't want to hear me saying that. And I'd completely understand if you'd come after me with a shotgun if I hurt him – but I really hope that I won't."

Besides, believing him gives Burt an excuse to stock up on pamphlets. He's avoided it for as long as he possibly can, but now, Burt sees that _he and Kurt have to have the talk_, whether they like it or not. (And Burt's under the impression it's a mutual thing when he assumes that _they really don't like it_.)

_**xoxox**_

**AN: **Blaine chapter is next. (TBH, it was actually the third one I wrote. Yep. My chapters are interchangeable, and my plot is pretty much nonexistent. That's not embarrassing at all.)

**AN (2): **Avenue Q is playing at a town near me this month, hence the decision to make Jeremiah study for a BA in English. Yupp.

**AN (3): **Errors are mine alone.

**AN (4): **I love you BBs. 100 reviews is bitching. (:

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

After that conversation where Kurt and Blaine became _KurtandBlaine _again, and wherein Kurt also admitted to having a crush on some mysterious male, Blaine hadn't brought it up again. He had given Kurt the deadline of a month to confess the identity, and was more than willing to exercise any and all patience until Kurt wanted to tell him of his victory (or failure; Blaine cringed at the thought of Kurt getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop _again_), or the month was up. Whichever came first.

Personally, Blaine had hoped that his friend would crack, and would gush within two weeks' time. Blaine had missed him in the almost month that they had been apart, and had hoped that their reunion would result in a newfound closeness between them. (Even though several Warblers whom he had tortured with tales of his plight; Thad and Bailey specifically, had noted that if he and Kurt became any closer, they would be physically joined at the hip.)

When Kurt had held out for a very specific twenty-four days (which Blaine most certainly did _not _count down in a small notebook purchased exclusively for that purpose), Blaine had become _slightly _worried, though not at all _frantic_, and began checking Kurt's Facebook page with a rather unnerving frequency. (Which he was only able to admit to being _mildly _creepy when said Facebook page showed up as the first result in his browser history, and caused the boys sitting on either side of him in the library to give him very suspicious looks.)

By the time the twenty-seventh day comes around, Blaine gives up on Facebook (and technology in general), accepts that Kurt doesn't intend to talk to him about it any time soon, and has sighed only once in resignation before making his way to Kurt's dorm, just before curfew on that Thursday evening.

It's on his way to the dorm room that he stops just down the hall, at the sight of two very close figures. The relationship between the two is obviously an intimate one, judging by their current activity of sharing saliva like it's going to save their lives, and Blaine considers for a moment that it's impolite to watch their romantic carrying-ons.

That in mind, he proceeds to hide very cautiously behind the wall, and hopefully out of sight, and continue watching. He assures himself that it's simply because the shorter of the two figures is obviously _Kurt_, and Kurt is his dear friend whom he cares about immensely and would hate to see hurt in any way, shape, or form.

He continues to assure himself of as much as he watches the pair very intently, and uses all his powers of judgment to determine the apparent worthiness of the taller male. As he surveys them, he finds himself coming to three conclusions about Kurt's nameless beau.

Firstly, that Kurt's apparently very enamored of him, if his soft moans are anything to go by. Somehow, Blaine briefly contemplates going back to his own dorm and spending the night alone with sad music as he watches his friend's – _his best friend's_ – fingers tangling in the other boy's medium-length and unkempt tresses. He doesn't dignify the urge with any further thought, beyond a hasty explanation of _I'm lonely; Kurt doesn't have time to talk tonight_, and makes a point of focusing his gaze on anything other than where Kurt's unusually rosy lips are being devoured.

Secondly, that the anonymous boyfriend doesn't seem to be a threat to Kurt's virtue. His hands, despite resting _very securely _on the inappropriately exposed expanse of ivory skin that is the small of Kurt's back, don't seem to be holding on _too tightly_, and Blaine reasons that Kurt could get away with little effort if he needed to. Even with that conclusion, however, Blaine does not cease his monitoring, under the grounds that _it could turn bad at any moment_. (Particularly considering how those hands that he thought were _acceptably positioned_, those hands that he _trusted to not pull a fast one_, seem to have slid lower, beyond the waistband of Kurt's ever-ogle-worthy skinny jeans.)

Thirdly, that No Name actually has a fairly familiar build. Blaine vaguely thinks that if he didn't know any better, that it was _Jeremiah_. The height looks the same, though he's sure it's because he usually thinks that all people taller than him – which happens to be many people – are about the same height (with the exception of Kurt's very large, very intimidating stepbrother). The hair also looks similar to Jeremiah's, in its cut (although it seems like a run of the mill, and generally popular cut), and color (but strawberry blonde isn't exactly an _uncommon _shade).

The most remarkable is the hoodie that's hanging limply over Kurt's frame; over the Alexander McQueen button up he had raved about for hours the day prior – it actually looks rather like the ratty brown one that Jeremiah had seemed to insist on wearing on a daily basis. But Blaine knows, of course, that that doesn't necessarily mean that it's _Jeremiah_. Plenty of boys are a few inches taller than Kurt, and have untidy red hair, and own nondescript hoodies in bland shades, he's sure. And certainly some of them have to be gay, as this one clearly is.

It can't be Jeremiah.

But then Kurt and Mystery Boy separate, and Kurt's smiling up at his – boyfriend? – with a fond expression that clearly says _he's in serious like_; a fond expression that Blaine's missed seeing. The way that Blaine's stomach churns at that thought – the thought that _he hasn't seen Kurt smiling like that in way too long _– is promptly ignored, in favor of trying to discern Anonymous's identity.

"Do you have class in the morning?" Kurt whispers breathily as his hands lock behind Faceless Male's neck and he presses unnaturally close to the boy of whom he's apparently _very fond_. Blaine doesn't like the implications of Kurt's request – his motivations behind it are obvious, and very concerning to Blaine, his _best friend who really cares about him_; his _best friend who cares about him too much to do something he'll regret with just __**some guy**_. "You still owe me that _Avatar _marathon, you know," Kurt adds. Blaine has never been more grateful for the fact that he's just an outside observer than he is now, because he has no idea how he would have responded to the seemingly innocent and just-barely-reasonable reason Kurt has for wanting his boyfriend in his dorm.

The Unidentified Flaming Other laughs quietly as his hands slip back up into sight, and Blaine (slightly) loosens the fists he apparently has balled at his sides. "I know, but I do. Besides, I don't think your RA – or your roommate – would appreciate finding a strange guy in your bed in the morning. It's the same thing with your dad and Blaine, except this situation actually has merit to it," Guy says.

And then Blaine notices something.

Kurt's Boyfriend _sounds _a lot like Jeremiah, too. The same voice, the same vocal inflections that remind _I'm older than you; that makes me wiser by default _but without being pretentious or irritating. But it can't be him, because Kurt's a minor – Kurt's younger than Blaine, who's going to be eighteen in four months, anyway, whereas Kurt is seven months away – and Jeremiah's twenty; twenty one in a couple weeks, if Blaine's not mistaken.

Kurt makes a _hmph_ing noise that brings Blaine out of his thoughts, and he abruptly remembers his purpose, and glares at the visible area of Strange Guy's face (the slightest spot of a ruddy complexion on his cheekbone) with a newfound resolve. "Fine, fine. But no matter how many times you defer it, I'm not going to give up. I watched _2001: A Space Odyssey _for you, remember," he points out sullenly, though even Blaine can see from his far-off vantage point that Kurt's grinning.

"Yeah, and I like you that much more for it," Jeremiah-Sounding-Boy responds with what sounds like a grin of his own. Blaine doesn't bother pretending to himself that he's not happy to hear that it's not _love _yet, though he does worry for a split second about _why _he's actually so happy about the revelation.

That split second ends very abruptly, and very unkindly, when Kurt rolls his eyes with his usual dramatic flair, and drags Secret Boyfriend down for a tender kiss. It doesn't look like there's any tongue action in this one – not that Blaine can pick out, in any case – but somehow, that just chills Blaine that much closer to the bone with the realization that _he's intruding on a personal moment with Kurt and someone he really, really cares about in a romantic way_.

That coldness intensifies as the – _happy _– couple parts, and Kurt pulls the jacket tighter around himself, before giving a small, affectionate wave to the male that Blaine suddenly realizes is walking (backwards, with a goofy, lovestruck aura about him) in his direction.

To the male that Blaine suddenly realizes is indeed _Jeremiah_, looking more at ease, more relaxed, _more like someone who's really actually __**ecstatic **_than he's ever seen him before.

Blaine only barely manages to dive into the bathrooms before Jeremiah sees him, and only barely manages to get to the toilet before the unhappy contents of his stomach find themselves being orally expelled from his system. He blames it on the fact that Kurt's in a relationship with _Jeremiah_, whom Blaine had very specifically stated that he had feelings for.

He doesn't let himself think even for a moment that it's because _Kurt's in a relationship_.

_**xox**_

Two days pass, and – after resuming his love affair with Facebook, and finding that _Kurt's been "in a relationship with Jeremiah Carson" _since "_three days ago_" -Blaine goes out of his way to avoid Kurt. It doesn't go quite so well as he'd hoped – there were Warblers rehearsals, of course, and he couldn't just _not _sit with Kurt; there was breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and Kurt and Blaine always sit with the same group of Warblers and boys from Kurt's French class (who Blaine has a history of passive-aggressively verbally abusing when he happens to catch them ogling Kurt, because _he's not a piece of meat, for god's sake_); and they had their coffee _not_dates that Blaine couldn't just _miss_.

It's with an irritated scowl that Blaine admits to himself while driving to the Lima Bean that his attempts at giving Kurt the cold shoulder have failed miserably because of his own lack of self-restraint when it comes to the brunette that has him _completely whipped_. (Though, at the same time, Kurt _doesn't_, of course, because they're not dating. Kurt and _Jeremiah _are.)

But it's with an accidentally cheerful smile that he greets the countertenor at their usual table, and finds his usual drink and a cookie (oatmeal raisin today) sitting on said table waiting for him. The "Hey!" that comes out of his mouth as he takes his seat isn't angry at all, to his chagrin, and he only realizes that he forgot he's upset when he has half a cookie in his mouth.

"Hey," Kurt replies with a smile of his own, though he sounds nervous. As he should, Blaine's convinced as he chases his pastry down with a swig of his drink, and puts on his poker face. Kurt seems to notice his sudden change in mood, and heaves a slight sigh. "So, do you remember that guy we were talking about, weeks ago?"

"Four," Blaine interjects with a frown. "Four weeks ago. And one day. You're late," he points out. Kurt flushes in embarrassment, and nods before arguing in his own defense that "A month can consist of anything from four weeks to thirty-one days. I'm ahead of schedule."

Though Blaine's loath to admit it, Kurt's right, and the darker-haired male elects to continue glaring at his companion until he's heard it straight from Kurt's own mouth that _the guy is Jeremiah; __**Blaine's**__ guy_.

It takes one very awkward minute before Kurt seems to find the – _courage _– to do so, and even then, he seems tentative. As he should be, Blaine reasons, considering what's about to be said. "It's…working out. We went on our first official date a few weeks back, and…I like him a lot. Please bear that in mind when I tell you about him," Kurt requests fearfully. Blaine's unmoved, until he makes the mistake of glancing into Kurt's wide teal eyes that express all the trepidation that Kurt's very clearly feeling.

Blaine wants to think that he doesn't owe Kurt any favors; that by being as _angry _as he should be and by showing no sympathy, he can even the playing field with himself and Kurt, for what Kurt did to him after Rachel's party. But there's something about Kurt that Blaine just _can't be angry at_. There's something about the way that Kurt always looks at him the way he does – like he has all the answers; like he's someone to be idolized; like he _loves him_ – that makes Blaine want to live up to all of Kurt's expectations.

So he nods, and he musters up some courage of his own to smile at Kurt encouragingly. "If you like him, then I'm sure he's great." The relief that paints Kurt's pale face a pretty, healthy pink hue actually feels like reward enough for Blaine's restraint, and he lets his smile turn genuine when Kurt takes his hand gratefully. "What's he like?"

Now, there's only a slight amount of hesitation in Kurt's voice as he murmurs, "It's…Jeremiah." Somehow, hearing it said aloud isn't as world-shaking, or friendship-destroying, or heart-breaking as he thought it would be. Actually, Blaine thinks that it could easily represent the moment when he decides he could be okay with it someday.

Right now, it hurts. Right now, he wants to scream, and to throw something, and to make promise after promise that _he'll never speak to Kurt again; he'll never look at Kurt again; he'll never think about Kurt again_. But as Kurt watches his face intently for signs of a negative reaction, he knows that he wouldn't be able to keep those promises anyway. Because Kurt's _something_. Kurt's _perfect_, and _beautiful_, and _brave_, and _everything that Blaine wishes he was_, but he still _admires_ Blaine.

And Blaine doesn't want to lose that. He doesn't want to lose the way that Kurt's eyes always light up when he walks into the room. He doesn't want to lose the way that Kurt trusts every word he says as gospel, even when it's something ridiculous like _Hufflepuff's the best house – no, really, it's badass_. He doesn't want to lose the way that Kurt _loves him_, unconditionally.

So Blaine nods, and smiles at Kurt. Kurt smiles back, and Blaine's positive that it's the nicest thing he's ever seen. "I'm happy for you, Kurt. Really. I didn't really think I was his type, either," he jokes. Kurt laughs softly, and squeezes Blaine's hand tighter in response. Blaine gets the feeling that Kurt knows what he's doing – that Kurt knows he's playing that Gay Yoda part again, and that he's hiding his vulnerability – and feels really _open _for a moment.

But then Kurt's giving him _that look_. It's not the look that he was giving to Jeremiah the other night, not that look that says _Kurt could fall in love with him __**so **__easily_, but somehow, Blaine doesn't think he misses those days when it was. Because he thinks he could be satisfied with _this _look – this look that says _Kurt sees it, sees __**just **__how screwed up Blaine is, and doesn't mind; _that says _Kurt knows the way Blaine is, knows all his imperfections, but that's not going to stop him from looking at Blaine the way he always has_.And Blaine likes that.

"You can bitch me out, you know," Kurt murmurs with a helpful tone of voice that makes Blaine want to laugh.

Except he doesn't. Instead, he does just what Kurt's suggested, and proceeds to let in with a loud rant using a handful of profanities that make the elderly couple behind them cringe and exchange a scandalized look. Even between his "Does _friendship _mean nothing to you? _Friends _don't do things just to fuck each other over!"s and his (admittedly not-well-thought-out) "And at least I didn't try and _hide it _from so that you'd end up looking like a goddamn _idiot _when I finally decided to share that tidbit of information!"s, however, he keeps his hold on Kurt's hand, and Kurt only makes two motions to pull away. (The first, when Blaine asks if Kurt had been "checking him out the whole fucking time I was making a douche of myself?"; the second, when Blaine makes the bitter point that "Rachel and I are both your friends, so the _least _you could have done was _be happy for us_, _for christ's sake_!".)

By the time he's out of words, out of complaints, and out of breath, Kurt looks thoroughly shaken, but is still sitting across from him, watching him concernedly.

"Is that all of it?" he inquires softly as Blaine drops his head to the table between them with a dramatic exhalation that attracts further attention from Alma and Leo, their elderly coffee acquaintances. (Who Blaine is pretty sure don't think he's a "fine young man" anymore.)

Blaine mumbles an emotionally-drained, "Yes," before glancing at where his hand lays, still entwined with Kurt's. "Are you still here?" he asks, suddenly feeling timid as he finally absorbs all the cruel things he's just said to someone who's his _friend_.

Kurt's response is to press a brief kiss to Blaine's forehead, and murmur an affirmative against his strangely damp skin. "I'm glad that that's out of the way. Venting is good for you," he says with more kindness than Blaine feels like he deserves at the moment. He gazes up at his friend to try and convey that feeling of apology through eyesight alone, but Kurt just dismisses his stare with a short shake of the head, and an understanding look.

"Now, Carole's been asking about you lately – she was worried about you after she caught me having to force-feed you aspirin for your hangover – and has convinced my dad that you didn't steal my virtue, and should be allowed back in our home. Naturally, he demands to judge you with new, more scrutinizing eyes after hearing that you were drunk out of your mind, so I was thinking that you could come over tomorrow for dinner?"

Blaine sits up, and quickly regains his dapper front. But even as he and Kurt carry on with their casual conversation, he knows that something's different – he knows that _now_, Kurt will always be able to say from first-hand experience that _Blaine's not perfect_.

He's fairly certain he can live with that, though, considering the way that Kurt's still not looking at him through judgmental and disapproving eyes.

_**xoxox**_

**AN: **I ship Blaine/cookies. Because he wanted the cupid cookie in SLS, and he ate the biscotti like a BAMF in SSBS (the caps from that scene are my favorite; ever), and I'm convinced that he's addicted. –nonsensical food shipping FTW-

**AN (2): **I apologize somewhat for this chapter, because I was a little heavy-handed with the Blaine douchebaggery. But only somewhat.

**AN (3): **Thank you to everyone who follows this.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.


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